


The Little Spoon

by destieldrabblesdaily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon verse, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destieldrabblesdaily/pseuds/destieldrabblesdaily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds that sometimes, it isn't so bad to be the little spoon and to be taken care of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Spoon

The ugly wallpaper that Dean was staring at made him long for his own room back at the bunker. He could tell that the flowers printed on it had gone from a light shade of pink to a disgusting kind of yellow over the years. He’d never minded sleeping at motels, but he was feeling a bit gloomy tonight, even after he and Sammy had successfully cleaned out a vamp nest.

Now that they had a home, Dean much preferred to sleep  _there_ , instead of being on the road. Back where Dean knew that he was  _safe_. Where he knew that he didn’t have to sleep with a gun beside his pillow and one eye open, even if it was just in case. Where he didn’t sleep on top of the covers fully clothed, like he was currently trying to do.

It didn’t help either that he was  _alone_. Not that he minded that Sam had met a cute girl at that bar where they’d gone to get a drink afterwards; he was glad to see his little brother get some action. Nonetheless, Dean felt strangely hollow tonight, unable to sleep although he was exhausted.

He shivered, finding that it was too cold in the dimly lit room. He wrapped his arms around himself, but it did little to make him feel warmer, or less forlorn for that matter. Dean stared at the wall some more, willing himself to go to sleep, but failing.

Nearly an hour had passed when a sudden rustling noise startled him, but he immediately relaxed again when his tired brain recognized the familiar sound. He didn’t reach for his gun, didn’t even look up to check. He knew that sound like the back of his hand, and already he felt warmer, as well as less empty inside.

There were two thuds as shoes hit the floor, and the rustling of fabric when a coat was taken off. It was followed by Dean’s favorite feeling; the bed dipping under the weight of a second person, and said person moving closer until his chest was flush against Dean’s back.

“Hello, Dean.” The words were whispered into Dean’s ear as two strong arms snaked around his waist. “Your soul was calling out to me, you seemed unhappy. Are you alright?”

Dean snorted quietly as he placed his hands over Castiel’s, their fingers lacing together where they rested against Dean’s stomach. The clean scent that was so typically Cas surrounded Dean, functioning as a security blanket. The perks of dating an angel; there was no need to let them know that you were feeling shitty and needed comfort, they could either simply read your mind, or sense your displeased soul from miles away.

At times it could be annoying, but most times, like today, Dean was thankful for it.

“I’m already feeling a lot better, thanks Cas.” Dean answered solemnly, enjoying Castiel’s close proximity and the warmth that he was providing.

“Good.” Castiel murmured.

The angel freed one of his hands, bringing it up to touch Dean’s cheek. Dean winced, remembering the rather deep cut there. A gentle touch, a brief flash of bright blue light, and all pain was gone.

“Shouldn’t waste your grace on that.” Dean complained as he realized what Cas had just done.

“I think that is for me to decide, not you.” Castiel countered, but his tone was mild. “You’re tired, you should sleep now, can you do that for me?”

“Hmm…” Dean mumbled, feeling like jelly in Cas’ arms, the weight of the angel pressed against his back giving him the same sense of safety that he felt when sleeping in his own bed.

“Do you need  _help_?” Castiel checked, one hand soothingly stroking through Dean’s hair as he waited for a reply.

Dean knew what ‘help’ meant; Cas often offered it to him whenever he was anxious or suffering from nightmares, making Dean go into a dreamless sleep with some use of angel mojo. This time however, Dean could already feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, and he lazily shook his head.

“No… ‘s okay, Cas.  Night…” He slurred.

The last thing Dean heard before drifting to sleep was Castiel’s quiet laugh of amusement, and the last thing he  _felt_  were Castiel’s lips, sweetly brushing against the top of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> For more Destiel stories, follow destieldrabblesdaily.tumblr.com


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